"How about we adjourn to the living room?" Gordon suggested. "Is everybody up for real coffee with dessert or should I make decaf? Bailey, would you come slice your cheesecake?"
When everyone was settled with a steaming cup of coffee, Bailey proudly served pieces of the cream colored dessert topped by bright red splashes. Gordon and Paula murmured compliments as they prepared to take their first bite. Austin was silent, but that was to be expected. Naturally he'd resent her stealing his thunder.
She watched them as they chewed and swallowed, waited for expressions of delight. No one said anything nor did they take a second bite.
"Well?" she finally asked when they all seemed intent on draining their coffee cups.
Gordon set his dish on the coffee table. Samantha prissed over, sniffed, turned up her nose, and walked away. The three of them burst into laughter.
"Did you do this on purpose?" Gordon asked.
"Bailey, dear friend, I think you'd better stick to being a lawyer," Paula suggested. "Make enough money you can hire a chef."
"You're all very funny," Bailey retorted, taking her own first bite.
Maybe they weren't just being funny. It didn't taste quite right. In fact, it tasted pretty awful, sort of like greasy cardboard with gritty raspberries. But her difficulty in swallowing wasn't just from the bad flavor. A big lump seemed to have risen in her throat.
As if that wasn't bad enough, she looked up to find Austin staring directly at her, those unnatural eyes piercing to her very soul. She wanted to run home and hide for the rest of her life.
In the distance, far away, she could hear Paula telling the home ec story. The floor didn't seem likely to open up beneath her feet, so she'd have to face the situation head-on.
Then Austin's voice cut through the fog, loud and clear. "My compliments," he said smoothly, actually forking another bite into his mouth.
Bailey watched him in stunned fascination.
"Austin, you're going to die a painful death," Gordon warned.
"Gordon, remember how I used to tell you your taste was all in your mouth? Well, I take that back. It certainly isn't there, either, if you can't appreciate the delicate flavor of this dessert. You've become accustomed to the frozen variety. This is unique, homemade, more like the deli varieties in New York." So saying, he took another bite.
The overblown praise had to be sarcasm. Yet he continued to eat and smile.
Doubting her own judgment, Bailey took another bite, searching for the New York flavor. This bite went down easier because the lump in her throat was dissolving, but it didn't taste any better. If that was what they liked in New York, she'd continue to take her vacations in the South.
Looking up, she caught Paula and Gordon exchanging confused glances then retrieving their plates for another taste. Puzzled, she turned her attention to Austin, but he was concentrating on eating and didn't look up.
This made no sense. He couldn't possibly like greasy cardboard. If it were anyone but Austin, she'd think he was being kind, trying to make her feel good, throwing the race.
Somehow she made it through the rest of the evening, but she didn't dare look at Austin. If she'd seen sympathy or pity in his eyes, she couldn't have stood it. That would be the ultimate sign of losing.
Finally it was time to leave, to get away from everyone, to hide, regain control, and sort out the evening.
"Did you check the park today?" Gordon asked Paula as Bailey unlocked the car doors and plopped Samantha into the backseat.
"No. I'm going tomorrow. Which reminds me—" She opened the passenger door and retrieved Bailey's ill-fated shopping bag from The Complete Kitchen. "I answered twenty of the letters from prospective Prince Charmings." She turned to Bailey. "We need to mail them on the way home."
"Austin'll do it," Gordon exclaimed, stepping quickly to the car, taking the bag from Paula, and passing it to Austin. "He has to go right by a post office on his way home. You don't need to be stopping this late at night."
"Okay," Paula agreed, shrugging. "About time you lawyers did some of the mailing."
"Pick you up tomorrow morning to go to the park," Gordon called as they pulled away from the curb. Paula leaned out the window to wave.
"You know," she said, rolling up the window, "it's a shame those guys are lawyers."
"Umm," Bailey murmured noncommittally, refusing to relinquish her train of thought. She'd found something to take her mind off the evening's events, and she didn't want to give it up. What did the two of them want with Paula's letters, and why did Gordon want to take her to the park?
"They were both so gallant tonight. Especially Austin. Kind of surprising, considering the way you two fight, but I suppose that makes it all the more chivalrous. "
"What do you mean?" Bailey gripped the steering wheel, hoping Paula wasn't going to refer to his eating her awful cheesecake.
"Austin saving your honor, of course."
"Saving my honor?" Somehow that had a nicer ring than feeling sorry for her.
"Sure, by eating that horrible cheesecake. You're lucky you make enough money to eat out all the time because you really are the worst cook I've ever known."
"Maybe he liked it," Bailey protested. Saving my honor? She fought against the disconcerting warm spot the idea planted in the middle of her chest.
"No way. He just didn't realize that you know you're a lousy cook, and that it doesn't bother you. Still, he was a real gentleman to come to your defense."
"My defense? I don't need anyone to defend me! Certainly not Austin Travers!"
"Well, you must admit, he had the perfect opportunity to roast you, and he didn't do it. Maybe he suddenly noticed you're a woman. You do look really good tonight."
Bailey was grateful for the darkness in the car. She could feel the blood rushing to her face as Paula's words reminded her of the way she'd felt in Austin's arms only last night, of the kiss they'd shared. Though calling it a kiss was like calling Niagara Falls a creek. And tonight he'd saved her honor.
*~*~*
Austin slouched low in the seat of his Mercedes, waiting for Paula and Gordon to arrive. Sitting in the park with a huge basket of cut flowers in the passenger seat, trying to be unobtrusive, was ridiculous. Stealing Paula's letters rather than mailing them was bad enough, but this escapade was worse.
He shifted and scanned the parking lot carefully, anxious to spot Gordon's familiar car and get it over with. Gordon would really owe him after cooking that dinner last night and delivering flowers anonymously today. Of course—he cringed—Gordon might think he'd paid his dues by being forced into eating more of that awful cheesecake.
And there was another piece of insanity. He'd had Bailey on the mat, beaten her fair and square. His cooking was delicious and hers was terrible. Yet he'd thrown the race.
Her expression when she'd taken her first bite flashed onto his brain—those big, clear eyes so full of despair. Logically he knew he should have jumped on her when she was down since that seemed to be about the only time he could jump on her. He should have refused to eat the blasted cheesecake, should have added his insults to the others.
He should have jumped out of his chair and pulled her to her feet and kissed those sad lips. He should have taken them both back to that crazy world they'd found on Friday night.
Kiss her or fight her. There seemed to be no middle ground.
He slammed out of the car and walked across the parking lot onto the grass, not caring if Paula saw him.
Fresh air, that was the ticket. Get his head clear. As soon as this was over, he'd go to the club and work out. Better yet, he'd go for a long run. There was another 10-K coming up in a couple of weeks and he had to be ready to trounce Bailey soundly when that time came. His lips curved in an involuntary smile at the thought, and the tension left his body. He'd finish, he decided, half a mile in front of her.
Hands in his pockets, he strolled back toward his car, admiring the roses along the way, breathing in their aroma, noticing for the fi
rst time how blue the sky was. He almost didn't see Gordon and Paula as they drove up. With a sigh, he backed around a tree, hoping no one he knew would see such strange behavior.
Paula was talking a mile a minute and Gordon was beaming down on her. Gads! Austin certainly hoped he never became that besotted with a woman.
As soon as they were out of sight, he retrieved the flowers from his car, set them in the front seat of Gordon's vehicle, and ran back to his own. Thank goodness that was over!
Opening the sunroof, he turned the radio up and pulled away, singing along. He'd call Bailey and invite her to run with him that evening.
*~*~*
Across the lot, Bailey's lips narrowed as she watched the scenario unfold. She'd known all along that something was screwy about this whole PC business. Following Paula and Gordon to the park had seemed a little silly, but she had been determined to find out what was going on.
Now it all made sense. She should have figured it out before. Gordon pushing Paula about this Prince Charming thing, making sure she made it to the park, Austin always hanging around, being gallant and chivalrous, Austin volunteering to mail Paula's letters. She'd be willing to bet those letters never made it to the post office.
Her heart shriveled. Painful as it was, she had to admit that she'd come to think of Austin as "hers." Maybe not in the standard sense, but hers to fight with and run with and maybe even kiss again. He'd eaten her cheesecake and stood with her against Paula and Gordon. But in the end, it was Paula he'd been coming to see—petite, pretty Paula.
Who was it who said, "The more things change, the more they stay the same"? Gangly, awkward Bailey, with braces and freckles, had let the boys copy her homework, but Paula had been the one who went to proms.
She twisted the key and gunned the engine, screeching out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 6
Back in her bedroom, Bailey cursed softly, then more loudly as the zipper of her black skirt jammed and refused to budge. Of all times for it to fail—she wanted to be dressed and gone when Paula and Gordon came back. She almost wished she'd gone on to the office in her cutoffs. Everyone else dressed casually on weekends. Only she felt office attire was appropriate when in the office, no matter the day or hour, and today it was proving to be her undoing.
She didn't want to see her friends, to be forced to act as if everything was all right, her life was neat and orderly, the way it had always been. None of the above was true, and she didn't have the emotional energy to pretend it was.
Well, that's what she got for trying to compete in an area in which she had inadequate training and skills.
A gentle touch on her leg turned her attention to Samantha. The little dog was looking up with liquid, pleading eyes. She knew that stockings and suits meant her friend was going away. Bailey reached down and picked her up, balancing the furry body in one hand and scratching her ears with the other.
"You can go with me, sweetheart. On Sundays the office belongs to us. You can lie right in the middle of Stafford Morris' desk if you like. Dig yourself a nice bed in his papers. Just don't get in the ashtray. You'd never get the smell off."
Samantha twisted and scrambled onto Bailey's shoulder, snuggling comfortingly against her neck.
"Sometimes, little one, I think you know more than you let on," Bailey murmured, stroking the soft fur. She couldn't be totally dejected around so much love.
From the living room came the sound of a door closing followed by Paula's bubbling laughter. Plopping Samantha onto her white bedspread, Bailey gave the zipper a final yank and felt it jerk free. She threw on her jacket, grabbed her black leather shoulder bag and Samantha, and strode out of her bedroom.
Gordon was positioning the telltale flower arrangement in the middle of the coffee table. Samantha squirmed from Bailey's grasp and ran over to greet Paula then Gordon then Paula again.
"Bailey," Paula called, seating herself on the sofa directly in front of the flowers and next to Gordon. "Come look. While Gordon and I went to retrieve my latest letter, Prince Charming left these in my car. Isn't that romantic?"
"They're lovely flowers."
Bailey tried to keep her voice neutral, but Paula's eyes narrowed as she turned her full attention to Bailey. "Why are you dressed like that?" she asked.
"I'm going to a costume party as a lawyer. Why do you think I'm dressed like this? I'm going down to the office for a while."
"It's Sunday afternoon," Gordon protested. "Paula and I were talking about maybe calling Austin, and we could all go down to that park over by my house for the free concert. Take a blanket and some cheap wine and pretend we're in college again."
"I never went to college," Paula reminded him.
"Yeah, but you've got a great imagination."
They both laughed giddily at the stupid remarks. Bailey felt relief when the telephone shrilled its interruption. She rushed to answer it, to get away from the conversation that centered around Paula and Austin.
"Bailey," Austin's voice boomed over the wire. So much for feeling relief at the telephone call.
In an instant she considered and rejected a multitude of responses ranging from What do you want? to Go to hell.
"Yes?" was the best she could come up with. Should she ask if he wanted to talk to Paula, make it easier for him? Hell, no, she decided.
"Have you registered for that 10-K race on Saturday after next?" he asked.
"Not yet." And she wouldn't if he was going to be there.
"I thought you might like to get in a practice run," he went on, seemingly oblivious to her curt reply. "It's a great afternoon for running—low humidity, starting to cool a little. In an hour or so it'll be perfect. We could even wait until night. I love to run after dark, don't you?"
She did, but she wasn't going to admit it to him.
"It's dangerous to run after dark in the city.”
Austin's laughter roared in her ear. "Bailey, I feel deeply sorry for anyone who tries to attack you. Anyway, I'll be running with you. A little ahead, probably, but still within earshot. Why don't we get Gordon and Paula, grab a light, early dinner, then you and I can go for a late run?"
Obviously he and Gordon needed to get together on their stories. "Gordon wants to go to the free concert in the park."
"Sounds good to me. We can let our dinner settle while we listen to a couple of songs, then go for a run, come back, and listen some more."
Yeah, and you can… Bailey stopped her thoughts. So she hated Austin and was jealous of Paula. So Paula hated lawyers, and she herself thought a relationship between the two would be disastrous for Paula. That wasn't really her decision to make. If using her was the only way he could get close to Paula, she should just go along with it and let Paula decide.
However she just wasn’t feeling particularly magnanimous at the moment.
"Blow it out your ear," she said, and hung up the phone.
"Was that by any chance Austin?" Gordon asked.
"Umm. Excuse me. I really have to get to the office." She leaned over, clapped her hands, and Samantha jumped into her arms.
"Bailey!" Paula swung over the back of the sofa in front of her. "What's the matter with you today? Are you having PMS?" She tiptoed up to hiss the last remark in Bailey's ear.
Bailey turned her haughtiest scowl on her friend, but thirty years of familiarity had indeed bred contempt. Paula laughed.
"I thought you reserved that look for old Mrs. Dunnigan. Remember how you used to get her so confused, she'd have the Mesopotamians pillaging Paris? Come on, Bailey. Let's go out tonight. We'll even take Samantha. If you don't want to go to the concert, we'll do something else."
Heaving a deep sigh, Bailey turned to Gordon.
"Would you excuse us a minute?"
He waved a hand negligently, and she shoved Paula into her bedroom and closed the door.
"I didn't want to tell you this, but I know who Prince Charming is," she whispered.
"Is that what's upsetting you? Jeez. I know, too
. I'm not completely retarded."
"It doesn't bother you? I mean, he's a lawyer."
"I know, and I swore I'd never get mixed up with a lawyer, but he's really not a typical lawyer. And he's gone to so much trouble to convince me of that. I think it's terribly sweet."
"You like him? I mean, really like him?" Bailey sat down on the edge of her bed, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.
Paula smiled in pleased embarrassment. "Yeah," she said. "I really like him."
"Then why the hell don't you tell him and get on with it and quit this nonsense?" And stop letting me make a fool of myself, she added silently.
"Are you kidding? I'm having too much fun. Think of it, Bailey, I'm finally in control of a lawyer. He's falling all over himself to please me, and I love it!"
"Paula! How can you care about him and talk like that?"
"Come on, Bailey. Loosen up a little. He's having as much fun as I am. Why spoil it? I'll tell him when he finally gets around to confessing." Her smile turned wicked. "Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll act horrified and let him sweat a little."
That, at least, would serve the jerk right, Bailey thought.
"In the meantime, can't you play along too? I thought you were having fun. I know you like Gordon, and it sort of seemed like you and Austin were getting on better."
Paula looked so happy, so pleased with herself. "Sure," Bailey mumbled. "If that's what you want."
Paula tiptoed up to kiss her friend's cheek. "Thanks. I knew I could count on you. This might be it, Bailey. The real thing, I mean."
Oh, brother. This was bad. The only other time Paula has used the it word was about her then future ex-husband, and she'd been sixteen at the time. Since then, the good ones had been better than the one last week or slightly more interesting than Saturday night television.
"I'll change clothes while you call Austin and tell him I'll go to the concert and do the stupid run with him, though I fail to see the purpose of it. The run, that is."
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